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<title>I Bleed My Heart Out On This Paper by blackandwhiteandrose</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24039010">I Bleed My Heart Out On This Paper</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackandwhiteandrose/pseuds/blackandwhiteandrose'>blackandwhiteandrose</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Schitt's Creek</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Boys In Love, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Fluff, Introspection, M/M, Personal Growth, Post-Engagement, Romance, pre-wedding, thinking thinky thoughts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 15:48:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,276</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24039010</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackandwhiteandrose/pseuds/blackandwhiteandrose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"David reached into his black overnight bag and snagged his journal, checking to make sure his favorite pen was still held in the pages between the leather binding. </p><p>He put his pen to the paper, but with all the thoughts jumbled around in his head, he barely knew where to start. He glanced at the last entry – it was about Patrick, of course. What had started as a written account of the travesty of his life post-fortune had taken a quick turn when Patrick had arrived."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Patrick Brewer/David Rose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>150</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I Bleed My Heart Out On This Paper</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Carefully extracting himself from Patrick’s vice-like post-sex cuddle-grip, a peculiar side effect of sex so good he became practically comatose almost immediately after, David slid off the bed. He reached into his black overnight bag and snagged his journal, checking to make sure his favorite pen was still held in the pages between the leather binding. </p><p>He made his way over to the kitchen table, pausing to take a deep whiff of the candle they’d lit earlier, just before clothes had started coming off. The heavy scent of oud and vetiver made him smirk, there was just something about it that he always associated with lust, making it an obvious choice for setting a romantic mood. He blew out the candle, pushing it to the other side of the table as he sat down. There was just enough light right there for him to be able to see what was in front of him, or to be able to glance over to the bed and gaze at Patrick, snoring peacefully.</p><p>Where Patrick became relaxed, David was wound up. When the trembling stopped, his heart slowed, and he could breathe normally again, his brain always seemed to take the opportunity to run wild. He flipped the journal open, and put his pen to the paper, but with all the thoughts jumbled around in his head, he barely knew where to start. He glanced at the last entry – it was about Patrick, of course. What had started as a written account of the travesty of his life post-fortune had taken a quick turn when Patrick had showed up. He was fairly certain he hadn’t written about anything but Patrick since that first perfect kiss on his birthday. </p><p>There were things he’d been noticing lately since the engagement, especially when they were in bed, and he had yet to write them down, commit them to paper as well as his memory. He thought about earlier, maybe just an hour or two ago, when they’d gone tumbling into bed together and he’d waited for Patrick to get situated amongst the pile of pillows. He was mentally planning exactly how he was going take Patrick apart, piece by piece. That moment…. That was where he wanted to start, and began writing, scribbling quickly across the pages.</p><p>There was something very powerful about the realization that he was so well acquainted with someone – and their body - that he knew exactly when, where, and how to touch them. At the beginning of their relationship, he had been so eager to not just please Patrick, but blow his mind, that he’d brought out all his most impressive tricks. Moves and motions that he’d acquired over years of trying to give people his best, in hopes that would be enough to make them stay, even if it was just for one more night. But after a few times with Patrick, it became less about showing off and more about wanting to learn exactly what it was that made Patrick beg for more. And learn he had, by paying attention to every sigh, moan, and shudder. He was confident now, that he knew both what Patrick liked and what he wanted, as well as what he needed. </p><p>And he’d never known anyone that way. He’d never had the chance. If he was being completely honest, he’d probably admit that at an earlier point in his life, he wouldn’t have wanted to know someone inside and out. He just wanted someone that would stay for a while. And if that meant tricks, he’d know them all. </p><p>David sighed over the less-than-neatly printed words on the journal pages. He knew he’d changed since those days, and he was grateful for that, perhaps never more so than when he thought about how desperate he had been for any kind of affection. He’d given too many worthless people too much of his time and too much of himself. There’d been so many nights he’d spent alone, wrapped up in sheets where someone else’s scent lingered longer than they had. He’d be angry with himself, swearing he wouldn’t do it again: just be a body, a wallet, or a secret. But he could only hold out for so long, until the dull ache of needing to be wanted, even for a few moments, became too strong to ignore.</p><p>But then there was Patrick. David put down his pen, and glanced over toward the bed, where Patrick had begun sprawling out across the better part of the mattress. David smiled a little, the thought occurring to him that this was a pretty solid metaphor for Patrick’s presence, in general. Once he arrived, he’d slowly crept into every facet of David’s life, ultimately staking his claim on David’s heart and holding it so carefully. It was incredible to think that there was someone he could trust to give himself to like that and not have the constant worry of when everything would come crashing down.</p><p>Patrick was the record holder of all things David. The longest relationship, the healthiest, the best, the most stable… if there was a superlative to describe any aspect of a romantic relationship, it would go to Patrick. For David there was something both extremely comforting and thrilling in knowing that even though he may have kissed, like, a thousand people, Patrick was the person he had kissed the most often. Of every one he touched, sucked, or fucked, he’d done all those things to and with Patrick more than anyone else. </p><p>David realized that one day, maybe even a day that wasn’t too far off now, there would come a time that he had been with Patrick more than all of those other people combined. That felt like a revelation. A date to circle in red on a calendar. To put a reminder in his phone and celebrate. That all the bad memories and the anxiety and occasional feelings of disgust of all those people, would eventually have been not only balanced out, but overtaken by Patrick. Everything about David, body and soul, would just be… Patrick’s. Just like the gold rings on his fingers that let the world know, he belonged with… belonged to Patrick. </p><p>He put his pen down, the last words he’d written – <i>and this was all worth it</i> -  becoming blurry to his teary eyes. He knew it was true, everything that he’d gone through was a fairly insignificant price to pay to be here now.  Especially so as he felt the warm touch of Patrick’s hands sliding around his shoulders as he leaned over him, pressing his lips to David’s neck. </p><p>David tilted his head to let Patrick have his way with all of the sensitive spots he knew and loved to tease David with. </p><p>Patrick nipped at David’s earlobe, asking sleepily, “Whatcha doin’?”</p><p>“Just wanted to write some things down so I don’t… so I <i>never</i> forget them,” he replied, tugging Patrick to move in front of him. </p><p>Patrick dropped gently onto David’s lap, his fingertips guiding David to turn toward him for a slow, sweet kiss. </p><p>David wrapped his arms around Patrick’s waist, holding him tightly, and rested his chin on Patrick’s shoulder. He was so content in moments like this, warm from the inside out, and deeply peaceful, sharing space and air with the only person who had ever made him feel that way. </p><p>Patrick slipped his fingers through David’s hair, “You gonna tell me what you were writing about?”</p><p>David smiled, “Just the best thing that ever happened to me.”</p><p>“Yeah?” Patrick glanced toward the pages, pretty sure he saw his name more than once. “And what was that?”</p><p>“You.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>-------</p><p>"I bleed my heart out on this paper" - title from Hot Chelle Rae.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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